Cherry Ames Boxed Set 13-16

by Helen Wells

  “I intend to keep every piece of this mail,” Peggy announced. If she had been open to persuasion about depositing the check, on this point she decidedly had made up her mind. Her mouth closed tightly in a stubborn line, and Cherry saw a self-willed side of Peggy Wilmot that she had not noticed before.

  “All right, we’ll keep the mail,” Cherry said.

  Peggy relaxed her determined look, and said, “I want to study it again. Miss Cherry, have you a few minutes to talk?”

  Cherry nodded. Most of the other patients were napping after the doctors’ visits and treatments, during this hour before lunch. Peggy kept her voice low so as not to disturb her wardmates. “You’re so nice, Miss Cherry, about taking care of my checks for me and—and maybe you’re wondering what this is all about. Well, I’ve had the most wonderful lucky break.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Cherry said, and smiled. “A fairy godmother?”

  Peggy Wilmot smiled back. “Better than that, because this is real. You see, these checks are my regular weekly dividend. I never thought anything as lucky as this would ever happen to me! Having a regular income means so much to me especially now that I’m—handicapped.”

  “You’ll be well and strong again,” Cherry assured her.

  “I hope so. In any case, I’m terribly lucky to be in on the Pell Plan. To think that when my husband left me some insurance money, I was just going to leave it in the savings bank, where your money earns only a little interest. You know that’s not very good business.”

  “It’s safe in the savings bank or in U. S. Savings Bonds,” Cherry said.

  Peggy Wilmot did not seem to hear that remark, or it did not interest her. She went on:

  “Arthur really looked out for me, the darling. He left me quite a lot, but still it wouldn’t last indefinitely. So then, of all things, I found out about this financial genius named Cleveland Pell. He’s a regular wizard at business! He invests your money for you and you earn a much higher return than elsewhere.”

  “Invests in the stock market?” Cherry asked.

  “No, Mr. Pell believes it’s better to invest directly in growing businesses. And better to spread your investment among a great variety of them. He knows a remarkable lot about all sorts of enterprises; he spends a lot of time traveling to inspect them. So his advice is sound. Firsthand. And the reason he can make such profitable investments for his clients is because only he, so far, knows about many of these businesses.”

  Cherry had no special knowledge about business, but she understood that an investor, who lent his money to a healthy business that needed funds to expand, would eventually share in the profits that business earned. However, investing involved some risk—a business might not earn much or might fail—so that it was necessary to have informed, honest advice. Peggy Wilmot was enthusiastic about the investment counsel furnished by the Cleveland Pell Corporation.

  “I haven’t been a client of theirs for very long,” she said, “but already I’ve earned far more than I hoped to! There’s no charge whatever unless you make money as a result of Mr. Pell’s advice,” she added. “What could be fairer than that? And you can withdraw your investment at any time.”

  Cherry felt rather bewildered. “I don’t know enough about this subject to know what to think of your Pell Plan,” she confessed.

  “Neither did I, at first,” said Peggy Wilmot. “But look at these bulletins and letters that the Pell Corporation sends out, without charge, to clients and prospects. Just read any of the mail on the bedside table. Why, it’s an education in itself!”

  Cherry picked up a bulletin on heavy, fine, blue paper. It was headed: Weekly Evaluation Service, Pell Corporation, Investment Counselors. Cherry read:

  “Announcing an extraordinary situation in an overlooked industrial group where new developments are stimulating explosive growth: Commonwealth Wool Company and its import-export subsidiaries. ‘Explosive growth’ is not a phrase often used by the Pell organization. Nor is it ever used loosely. For this fast-growing industry—whose gross revenue is doubling every four or five years—the phrase ‘explosive growth’ exactly describes the facts. We will send to our clients later this week, and to interested prospects on request, the balance sheet of Commonwealth Wool Company. Should you decide to act upon the Pell Plan’s specific recommendations—”

  Cherry skipped several paragraphs reporting on other specific businesses, in great variety: farms, a new chain of gasoline filling stations, airplane-parts manufacturers, food industries, shipping, retail stores, municipal industrial bonds. The bulletin ran to several pages and was crammed with facts and figures. She picked up a weekly report, this one on yellow paper, which analyzed business trends in general, and predicted in which areas growth or decline could be expected. There were also a portfolio and growth list.

  “Wow!” said Cherry. “Makes my head spin.”

  Peggy grinned. “I try to study these reports, because I’m interested in business. But I leave it to the Pell Plan experts to decide where to invest my money. In fact, I’m very happy to leave it to them.”

  She directed Cherry’s attention to a letter, signed Cleveland Pell, President, advising Mrs. Wilmot that this week he was transferring part of her investment from one company to another because, in his judgment, that was more advantageous for her. Cherry noticed that the letter gave careful reasons, was well written, and the stationery carried several well-known civic and industrial names as an advisory board of the Pell Corporation.

  “All this certainly is impressive,” Cherry said. She knew that there were many investment counselors such as the Pell Plan, and that a great many persons in all income groups used such advisory services and entrusted their money to them. Even so, Cherry could not imagine herself doing what Peggy was doing. She knew that her father regarded such investments as speculative, almost like gambling. People did lose their money sometimes in these ventures, and Cherry wondered whether Peggy Wilmot, alone and sick, could afford to take any chances.

  “How did you happen to decide to invest your insurance money in this way?” she asked Peggy.

  “Well, Arthur had an accident policy—and the insurance company paid it to me in one big lump sum. Arthur left no other assets to speak of, and no will, so I felt—” Peggy grimaced with pain. Cherry adjusted the pillows and moved the heating pads. Peggy relaxed. “What were we saying?” she asked.

  “To tell you the truth, I was wondering,” Cherry said, “who advised you to invest all your insurance money with the Pell Corporation?”

  “I invested most of it, not quite all,” Peggy corrected her. “Why, no one in particular advised me. If Arthur had had a lawyer, I suppose I would have talked it over with him. But we had never had any need of a lawyer. I did write to my brother in Florida before I started in with the Pell Plan, but my brother is such an old fuddy-duddy.”

  “What do you mean?” Cherry asked.

  “Oh, he’s ultraconservative,” Peggy said impatiently. “He wrote back that I should be cautious with the insurance money, that he’d put it into something very safe for me if I wanted. But savings banks and government bonds offer you such a slow, small return on your money! Why let your money sit in the bank at a low interest rate, when it could earn lots more for you if you invest it in growing businesses?” Peggy argued. “That’s how the banks make enormous profits for themselves—with the depositors’ money. That’s how lots of businessmen do it.”

  “That’s fine if you can afford to take a risk,” Cherry observed.

  Peggy’s mouth closed again in a stubborn line. She reminded Cherry of a child who would not listen, who insisted on having her own way.

  “I know there are risks, a few, but I also know,” Peggy said, “that the Pell Plan is good business. I’ve heard of other people making a good income this same way. I’m not so unintelligent that I don’t recognize a good deal when I see one. Look, Miss Cherry, I’m not a baby. Yet when Arthur was alive, he made all the decisions for us. I’m tired of being to
ld what to do! Of being ‘sheltered,’ as if I didn’t have good sense! I’m quite capable of managing my own affairs, thank you.”

  Cherry murmured soothingly, “I’m sure you are,” but she wondered how much Peggy’s knowing talk about business matters actually amounted to. Was she qualified to handle a large sum of money? Or was she, now that she was free to take financial matters into her own hands, simply cutting loose and playing the role of big shot—to prove to herself that her husband and brother had underestimated her?

  Cherry cautiously asked Peggy Wilmot what business experience she had had.

  “I was a secretary before my marriage,” Peggy said. “And I held a secretarial job here in Hilton after Arthur died.”

  It was not very much business experience, Cherry thought. Her patient smiled and said:

  “I didn’t mean to get so worked up, before. It’s just that you sounded almost like my brother. Really my money is safe. I sent Mr. Pell my check, and he sent me a certificate stating how much I invested with his corporation. And I keep that certificate in my safe-deposit box.”

  Cherry supposed that was all right, though on second thought she wondered whether a certificate was a guarantee, or a worthless piece of paper. Peggy Wilmot noticed her puzzled expression.

  “Honestly, I’m doing the right thing with the Pell Plan! Why, do you know what a good return it pays me? Ten percent!”

  “Ten percent? Isn’t that an awful lot?” Cherry was astonished. “Banks pay four and four and a half percent. I always thought six percent was the highest usual rate, on any stocks or bonds.”

  “Exactly!” Peggy Wilmot said in a sort of triumph. “This is an exception. This is a perfectly wonderful deal! Cleveland Pell is a financial genius. It’s a new, young firm, but his fame will spread. Everyone will want to invest with him.”

  “At ten percent return, I should think so.” Cherry was flabbergasted. “Let’s see, if you were to invest a hundred dollars with the Pell Plan, you’d get back ten dollars—? Peggy, did you say you receive a dividend check every week?”

  “Yes. My check comes every Thursday. I’ve received three checks so far, two before I came to the hospital, and now this week’s check.”

  “But how can Pell afford to keep up such big payments?” Cherry asked. “Week after week?”

  “Because he invests my money, and other clients’ money, in businesses which earn good profits. This way, everybody gains.”

  Cherry shook her head. “Then why doesn’t everybody invest whatever he has with the Pell Plan, and give up working for a living?” She laughed. “Then our society would come to a full stop, with nobody working. I’m sorry, Peggy, but this Pell Plan doesn’t sound right or healthy to me.”

  “You just don’t understand it.”

  “Well, maybe so.” Cherry knew that arguing could upset a sick person, so she dropped the subject. Anyway, it was time for lunch, and Midge and Dodo were looking expectantly to her for orders.

  Before she finished her day’s work that Friday, Cherry had Peggy Wilmot endorse the dividend check, painfully writing her name as best she could, while Cherry held and guided the pen for her. Cherry promised to mail this check, and every week’s check, to the patient’s bank for deposit.

  At home that evening, sitting with her parents in the living room for a while after dinner, Cherry mentioned the Pell Plan. When she said “ten percent,” her father put aside the newspaper he was reading.

  “Ten percent is fantastic,” said Mr. Ames. “Are you sure you have that figure right, Cherry? A ten percent return would bankrupt the U. S. Treasury.”

  “My patient insists it’s ten percent,” Cherry said. “Did you ever hear of the Pell Plan, Dad?”

  “No, but I don’t pay much attention to the more speculative ventures,” he said.

  Mrs. Ames said to Cherry, “Your brother might know. We can ask him when he comes home this weekend.” Charlie worked in nearby Indianapolis, in an aviation plant.

  “We’d do better to inquire at the bank,” Mr. Ames said. “Would you like me to ask Mr. Alison?”

  “Thanks, I would.” Cherry thought a moment. “I’m interested in this Pell Plan. Puzzled by it, I mean. Dad, would it be convenient for you to see Mr. Alison some afternoon between twelve and one? Then I can come, too, on my lunch hour.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll let you know what day,” and her father went back to reading his newspaper.

  Cherry remembered that the Pell Corporation check payable to Peggy Wilmot had been drawn on the First National Bank of Chicago. She told her father; Mr. Alison might find the information useful.

  “Cherry,” said her mother, “isn’t this the evening you’re going to the Wilsons’ party?”

  “Oh, my goodness, I forgot all about it! Dr. Dan will call for me here in half an hour! Excuse me—” Cherry dashed upstairs to shower and put on her new pink dress.

  Half an hour later, Dr. Dan Blake admired the dress and Cherry in it. He brought her a pink-and-white camellia, which was perfect with the dress and Cherry’s rosy cheeks. The Wilsons’ party was a small, informal dance at the country club. Everyone present had grown up together; Dr. Dan was the only exception. He was a little shy but popular, good fun, a good dancer. Cherry preferred him to her other partners. Later in the evening they sat on the clubhouse porch, which was drenched in moonlight, and Dr. Dan told her about Colorado—what it was like to grow up in desert country, in a new young town, in a family as lively as his. Mrs. Wilson had to call them to come in for the buffet supper. It was quite a good party.

  That weekend Cherry rested and enjoyed herself. She went with her friends and brother for a swim on Saturday at the county fairgrounds big outdoor pool. It was a very hot day. Young people from the outlying farms had driven in to Hilton for Saturday shopping and a swim.

  Between swims, Cherry and her friends wandered around the fairgrounds. There was no fair in progress, but the games and marksmanship booths were open, and the Ferris wheel was running. Cherry’s crowd ate an astonishing variety of things from the refreshment booths—hamburgers, hot dogs, popcorn, orange drink, doughnuts, ice-cream sundaes, watermelon. In the evening they all went to the movies.

  On Sunday, after church services, Midge, Carol Nichols, and Emma Weaver strolled by, and, seeing Cherry in the Ames’s yard, congregated around her. In the peace and quiet of Sunday, they noisily vied to entertain her. They admitted that after the serious atmosphere of the hospital, they felt lighthearted, even silly, on their time off.

  “We’ve been telling each other jokes,” Carol said. “Want to hear a riddle, Miss Cherry? … What’s an Eskimo’s tooth?” Cherry couldn’t guess. “A polar molar.” Everyone groaned.

  “What’s a two-day beard?” Emma Weaver asked. “Double stubble.”

  “Ouch! That’s enough!” Cherry laughed.

  They chatted for a while about the small, handsome new house that Liz Emery’s parents were building in the Roselawn section, way out past Hilton Airport. Midge said, “Liz’ll need her saddle horse to come to town from way out there.” They talked about the sale of French perfumes, coming this week at Hilton’s best shop, and wished they could afford some. Cherry suggested buying toilet water in the French scents. “It’s nicer than perfume in the summer, anyway,” Cherry said, “because it’s lighter, fresher.” Midge admitted she couldn’t buy toilet water or anything. She had spent her entire allowance on a pair of very high-heeled sandals, which, her father told her, would ruin her feet. “But they’re so pretty!” Midge said defensively.

  After chatting with the three girls a while longer, Cherry excused herself and joined her family in the house.

  After lunch she read the Sunday newspaper, including the comics section. She wished Dr. Dan did not have to work on Sundays. The house was quiet, and Cherry’s thoughts wandered back to her patients. She thought about her three most difficult cases: young Liz, elderly Mrs. Davis, Peggy Wilmot.

  That Pell Plan of Peggy’s! It seemed almost too good to be true. W
as there a catch in it somewhere?

  The more Cherry thought about the Pell Plan, the more puzzled and skeptical she became. She kept her doubts to herself, waiting to hear what the local banker would say. On Monday evening, Cherry’s father told her:

  “I saw Mr. Alison today and asked him about the Cleveland Pell Corporation. He didn’t know offhand. He’ll look it up, and you and I are to come in to see him Wednesday noon.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” said Cherry.

  She did not mention her forthcoming visit to Peggy Wilmot. No need to worry a patient unnecessarily. The Pell Plan might be entirely legitimate. During the early part of the week, Peggy again received her usual heavy mail from the Pell Corporation—so heavy that Cherry decided, with Peggy’s written permission, to have the post office deliver it directly to the hospital. Midge had plenty of duties on the ward, including helping the patient to read her mail; it was too much to ask Midge to trudge back and forth for it early every morning besides. Peggy Wilmot’s response to the stream of bulletins continued to be one of unlimited enthusiasm.

  “At least her mail cheers her up,” the head nurse remarked, “and aids her recovery.”

  On Wednesday noon Cherry met her father at the Vermilion County Trust Company. Mr. Alison was a tall, quiet, unobtrusive man whom Cherry had not had occasion to meet before. He instantly brought to Cherry’s mind his daughter, Claire Alison, one of the best Jayvees; they were so much alike.

  “Please sit down, both of you,” the bank officer said. He turned to Mr. Ames. “By the way, the check which your wife countersigned for a Margaret Wilmot cleared all right.”

  Cherry was relieved to hear that. Her father said, “That was a Pell Corporation check, I believe?”

  “Yes. I checked as you asked me to, since I’ve never heard of the Cleveland Pell Corporation, either. Couldn’t find any record of it. Not in any of the accredited financial or business directories. It may be a new company and not listed yet,” said the bank officer.